Of kingdoms and lies
by nightmistral
Summary: She's WRO. He's Deepground. She's supposed to keep the peace. He's a major threat to national security. When they first meet, it's hate at first sight. By the sovereign law of fanfiction, they're destined for each other.
1. Killing Time

**Disclaimer: The Tsviets, WRO and DOC are the property of Square Enix. Delta Six, however, is mine. **

**Chapter One: Killing Time**

_A/N: Special thanks to __**Jason Tandro**__, who kindly agreed to beta this fic and without whom I would have despaired a long time ago. _

_**ElleXVI**__, this is for you in response to your fic request. _

Night over Midgar was desolate. Rubble-strewn city streets and wrecked buildings stretched away on either side, cast in gloom and mired in muck. Meteor had done its work all too well. Those who could, avoided the once-city like the plague; others who had no choice other than to stay did whatever they could to survive.

The city had become a no man's land. By day and night, mako-generated Things ran amok, eating everything and anything living that they encountered. Worse, however, lurked in the burnt-out shell of the ShinRa building. There were whispers, rumours, of creatures beneath the earth, freaks and abominations, which could kill with a single look.

Sometimes, the people said, you could hear cackling in the wind and screams on the breeze. And then they would turn pale and refuse to elaborate.

But the time for self-reflection and possible regrets was long past for the elite Special Operations Division, Delta Six. They had a job to do, and they were damn well going to do it, even if it killed them in the process.

Five days earlier, they had received mission objectives from the HQ of the WRO, requesting them to conduct a clean-up of Midgar, starting from the ShinRa building onwards. It was time to rebuild, and the schedule had to go forward.

Silence, except for the whipping of the wind around them. The operatives remained utterly still, muscles tensed, eyes scanning for any sign of movement in their surroundings. Waiting for the green light.

Then the headset crackled, "All clear. Delta Six, you are go. Repeat, you are go. Do you read me?"

Crouched in the shadows, Sab Artimieva, Commander-in-Chief of Delta Six, thumbed the mike pressel. Control would hear squelch over the earphones – her response to the all-clear. It made no sense to give your position away to any prowling Thing by making unnecessary noise that was sure to draw unwanted attention.

"Acknowledged. Mission Control out."

They stepped forward cautiously, rifles held at the ready. It was killing time.

_A/N: So, what do you guys think?_


	2. Guards! Guards!

**Chapter Two:Guards! Guards!**

Deep in the blackness, _something _stirred. It raised its head, opened malevolent yellow eyes, and sniffed the dank air. The mingled stench of dank, rot and decay filled its nostrils, but drenching the putrid stink was the mouth-watering smell of blood, and live meat. Limbs flailed into action as it pulled itself away from the surrounding debris.

"Azul. What news?" Weiss's low drawl cut through the creature's attempts to free itself.

The behemoth turned and snarled in reply. Azul's claws raked the floor impatiently, scoring deep grooves in the stonework as he struggled to convey what his senses had detected.

"So the WRO is poking around again," Weiss sighed, "Azul, you know what to do. Eliminate _all_ of them. I want nothing about us to get back to HQ."

"Count me in too, darling," Rosso smirked as she strode forward, hand straying lovingly to her gunblade, "It's been so long since I had someone to kill."

Weiss gestured languidly, "Dismissed. Oh, and Rosso? If Shelke is there, kill her. Slowly."

"Heil Weiss. I hear, and I obey." Rosso's smile was feral as she turned to go. Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation of the fight. Already she could hear the agonized cries and the brutal snap of bones as she set upon her enemies, smell the stifling scent of death as eyes glazed over and muscles slackened. _Fear me, fools, for I have come to destroy you._

The WRO would pay dearly for the damage inflicted five years ago. The blood of her enemies would flow, rich, thick and crimson and she would drink her fill.


	3. Entrance Breached

_A/N: In which there is a lot of swearing, shooting and running. You have been warned. :)_

**Chapter Three: (entrance breached)**

Deep within the vaults of ShinRa building, Sab Artimieva wished she could wipe off the sweat trickling down his face. Inside her helmet it was hot and humid and stifling, the dry buzzing of the headphones a constant drone in her ears, blocking out her senses. She squinted but couldn't make out anything visible in the pitch surrounding him, "I can't see _anything_!"

_**The dark brought back memories, remembrances of fear and shadows and pain, of being locked in dank cellars where there were rustlings and murmurs from things lurking unseen and no matter how loudly she screamed and cried, no one could hear her, no one cared and certainly no one would come to save her. Then the choking blackness would come, resting so heavily upon her she could barely breathe –**_

_Where the //hell// did these things come from anyway?_

She'd been born a slum kid in Junon, homeless, fatherless, motherless, with nothing to her name. And there certainly hadn't been bloody cellars where _she'd _lived under the stairs in a stinking alley, nor had she ever been afraid of the dark. When you had to fight for your life, the Bogeyman didn't matter. He stayed far away, because what you had to deal with was far, far worse than him.

"'Course you can't. Turn on your NVGs, idiot." Spider's voice crackled over the comm, heavily ironic and drenched in scorn.

"…Oh." _Yeah, that damn switch._ "Right. Got it."

She fumbled with the visor for a moment, fighting the panic that threatened to swallow her. There was a harsh click, an answering hum as the NVGs kicked in, and the world reappeared, swathed in a staticky green.

"All right, Commander?" Rosto tapped her on the shoulder reassuringly.

_Steady, steady._ _I can't believe I just did that. _She took a deep breath, embarrassed at her momentary hesitation, "Ready."

A crash rocked the building, sending chunks of plaster hurtling down from the ceiling. They ducked.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Xabi yelled, flinging up his arms in a futile attempt to shield his head.

Rue opened her mouth to say she didn't know and would he please stop screaming like a scalded cat, it was just the ceiling giving way – and then the world erupted in a tornado of fangs and claws.

The monster came at them so fast Sab had barely enough time to grab Rosto and fling them both out of harm's way. It swung its head back and forth, glaring at all six of them in turn. Claws scraped at the floor agitatedly, tearing up the concrete. So much food, but who to eat first?

"Holy…." Xabi breathed, scrambling to his feet, "That's gotta be the shitting biggest Thing I've ever seen."

Thrusting Rosto aside, Sab rolled to her feet, hands cocking the Dragunov. The rounds hammered through the air, slamming into the behemoth's furry hide, but it merely shrugged them off as if the bullets were no more than pesky flies. Then it turned towards the source of the distraction decisively, eyes glowing with yellow hunger.

_Shitshitshishit_. No gun would kill this Thing, that at least was certain. So what now?

"Delta, retreat!" She took off in a random direction, hoping the creature would follow.

Tez, her Second, was yelling something in the background, calling her all kinds of fool. Was he running towards her? She didn't know, couldn't care. The Thing's breath was hot on her back.

Duck and run, duck and run. Her legs were burning; and yet the distance between them decreased exponentially. It didn't matter, so long as it gave the rest time to escape. She heard the sharp stutter of Xabi's AK in the distance, interspersed with the unmistakable _snick_ of Rue's shuriken slicing through the air. _Idiots! What do they think they're doing? Why don't they run, damnit?!_

A clawed foot swiped out of nowhere, slashing at her knee. Sab hissed and half-fell, managing to catch herself by dint of sheer momentum. Another roar sounded, angrier than the first. She'd been lucky the first time; she wouldn't be on the next.

"Stand and fight me, WRO weakling, or feel the wrath of Azul the Cerulean!"

_So it talks_._ And in clichéd lines, too_ - _how fitting for something dreamed up in a filthy lab._

She grunted and dropped suddenly, skidding to the side as her injured leg gave way. It seared, tracing a line of fire up her knee to her thigh. _Fuck_. She couldn't keep running and Azul couldn't keep missing, either. Both of them knew that; that the end had to come somehow.

"Given up already?" Azul's jaws snapped down, revealing inky blackness behind a row of trenchant fangs.

His tail slammed down, knocking the breath out of her. And then she saw it.

Right behind Azul's front leg, there was a gaping gash in the otherwise insurmountable armour, crusted over with criss-crossing welts of dried scar tissue. There was no time to think. Just - _Grip. Pull. Throw._

"Frag out!"

She saw the grenade hurtle upwards, almost in slow motion, and land, clunking onto the floor directly underneath Azul. But there was no white-hot starburst of heat and flames and shrapnel, no screams of pain that meant that her target had been neutralized – nothing.

Azul laughed, mockingly; then he charged.

His claws sent the grenade bouncing. As it hit the floor again, it exploded, catching Azul in the face. He roared in pain, lashing out blindly as he blundered into the supports. Having been weakened by age and previous battles, an assault by a bloodthirsty, insane behemoth was the last straw for the pillars.

Creaking loudly, the supports gave in, crumbling as they should have done ages ago. Bits of metal warped under the strain, then broke loose, tumbling down to rain upon the fighters. Then the main pillar gave way, and the building imploded.

Dazed and half-blinded, bruised and bleeding, Sab made no attempt to run, but just lay there, too exhausted to do anything else but watch as the ceiling fell towards her.


	4. Bloodburst

**Chapter Four: Bloodburst**

_Confusion_. That was all Sab remembered in the maelstrom of crashing stone and metal, caught in a mad tangle of arms and legs, with someone screaming something in her ears while her side erupted in a blaze of pain. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and waited until it was all over.

Gradually, the sounds faded.

"Jeez, Commander, I thought you were a goner for a second there. Lucky I caught you, huh?"

Sab groaned and struggled to sit up, feeling as though as she'd been trampled on by Bahamut himself, "Xabi. I thought I _ordered_ you to _run_."

"You're not immortal yourself." Alverrez grunted, pushing her back gently, "Don't move; you look like shit and anyway there's no point because we're stuck." A feeble green glow flickered into life as he activated the Cure materia, "This is gonna hurt."

"Stuck?" Sab echoed. "What d'you mean? Where are the rest?" The ringing in her ears was intensifying; so too, was the nagging feeling that something was horribly wrong.

"This place is sealed in. We can't get out, and I don't think anyone else can get in. As for the rest…" Xabi's voice trailed off uncertainly, "they should be fine, if they can get the lines to HQ open."

_Liar_. Even without looking at him, Sab could sense his unease. How high was the ShinRa building? It had to be more than seventy storeys tall at the very least. Seventy storey's worth of rubble collapsing was more than enough to pulverize them all. Both she and Xabi had only managed to escape through pure, blind luck. But Rosto, Rue, Spider and Tez… had they been as fortunate?

She smiled bitterly. _Never leap before looking,_ she'd been taught, and she'd jumped in with her eyes wide shut. Now it had returned to bite her in the back, and all because she'd neglected to recon before going on the offense. It was a rookie's mistake, and she'd made it, despite being Commander of Delta Six.

"Hey – someone's coming. Think it's one of ours?" Xabi nudged her, angling the Sense materia he'd been holding so that she could see it. A dot was moving rapidly towards them.

A warning twanged in the back of Sab's head as her instincts flared. "No," she growled, fingers clenching around her Dragunov, "Definitely not." _I don't know why, but whatever it is, it doesn't mean well…_

Xabi frowned, "How do you kn- "

Silence exploded into flame and noise and light, blinding in its glare as the darkness surrounding them winked out abruptly.

"Get _down_!" Sab thrust Xabi back as bursts of materia energy exploded around them. Staggering, she spun and swung the gun up to bear, firing again and again at the figure wreathed in red afterglow of materia-generated magic.

More gun discharges, sharp and throaty, filled the air. Xabi had joined in the attack.

Their assailant let out a furious shriek, high-pitched and feminine, "How dare you? Do you even know who I am, WRO idiots?"

"Yeah, well, you're a flipping crackpot!" Xabi snarled, loosing off a double tap. The shots caught the woman in her gut, but she didn't so much as flinch, much to the WRO agents' surprise. Instead, she smirked, watching the shock that spread itself across their faces.

"I am Rosso the Crimson, and I serve Weiss the Immaculate. Prepare to die."

_Weiss…_ The name sounded familiar, but Sab didn't exactly know _why_. The reason swirled hazily in her mind's eye, then danced out of reach, sinking back into the subconscious. _I…. knew Weiss from long ago? But that doesn't make sense, because I can't remember anything about him. His name must have been in one of the files that I've read before…_

"Weiss?" She echoed questioningly.

"The true emperor of Deepground, but you wouldn't know that, would you, WRO weaklings?" Rosso's voice was mocking.

_Screw that and screw you_, Sab thought. _I'm sick and tired of this. All I want is to get Delta back and __**you're in my way**_.

"Phoenix. Invoke." The Summon worked instantly. For a few long-drawn minutes, the night air was flung into chaos as the Phoenix Flame did its work, the giant bird spewing destruction into air.

When the inferno had simmered down, the enemy was nowhere to be seen. Sab tensed, eyes scanning the night. Surely the Deepground soldier wasn't _that_ an easy target.

Her suspicions proved correct. Rosso landed, staggering a little and looking definitely worse for the wear, "Impressive. I can see now why Azul failed, but," now, the air around her glowed bright red again, "the time for your little games is over."

She swung her gunblade. It hissed through the air, arcing towards Sab, trailing death in its wake. The commander moved, but too slowly. The blade caught her on the arm, ripping a gash that trailed down to her elbow.

It hurt. A lot. But Sab was determined not to give Rosso the satisfaction of seeing her wince. Holstering her gun and drawing her switchblades, she rushed her, but regretted it almost instantly.

Rosso's gunblade snapped up to parry, jarring her arms. Just as rapidly, the redhead embarked on savage melee attack, slashing and jabbing without mercy, and forcing Sab to duck and twist to evade the onslaught.

She smashed her foot into Rosso's shin, catching the warrior by surprise, and then rammed her blade into her opponent's ribcage even as the gunblade sliced into her shoulder. _Shit_.

Rosso let go, and Sab slid down to the deck, fighting the burning pain. She was dimly aware of her own blood spilling to pool on the ground, but even that was overridden by the growing numbness in her limbs.

Calmly, Rosso wrenched out the switchblade, snapping it backwards into Xabi's stomach as he charged her from behind.

"Idiots, did you really think _this_ miserable toy was going to stop me?"

Xabi let out an anguished yell and toppled backwards, fingers clutching at the ragged wound in his stomach. The smell of blood and guts filled the air, thick, salty and metallic. Rosso inhaled greedily, striding towards the fallen soldier, "And now, I am going to kill you, darling, just like I killed your poor friend."

The commander struggled to remain conscious. It was increasingly difficult to think as the pain fogged her mind. But she had to stay awake because Xabi – because Xabi- because _no bastard kills any one of my teammates on my damn watch_, _mad woman or not_,_ or I'll kill her myself. _

Sab stumbled up, grunting with the effort. Her fingers clawed at the dirt for purchase. Rosso seemed to waver in her blurring vision, even as the gunblade descended – no, _Xabi, _no – and then, it was growing darker. _How odd_, she thought muzzily, _somehow the darkness seemed to roil and twist, almost as if it had a life of its own._

She fought for control, to regain balance, and then passed out. The last thing she heard before oblivion took her completely was a scream. _So sorry, Xabi…_


	5. Of Politics, Boardrooms and Red Tape

**Chapter Five: Of Politics, Boardrooms and Red tape**

_A/N: A battle of an entirely __**different **__kind, fought not with bullets and brawn but words, guile and wit. _

_In which Reeve wants to pull out his hair, Ryden smirks and Rufus cameos._

When leaders take back power, when they act as heroes and saviors, they end up exhausted, overwhelmed, and deeply stressed. – Margaret J. Whitley

The words were blurring before his watering eyes, shifting into messy black smears across a white page. Reeve Tuesti rubbed his eyes, glanced at the clock and bit back a groan. It was already 0130 in the morning, and still – still work was coming in at a steady pace. He shook his head at the growing heap of papers in his in-tray, then focused on the same line again, "Poverty rates still remain worryingly high in the areas near Midgar…."

There was a knock. Reeve slammed the paper down, "Yes?"

He was done, he decided, with pleasantries for the day. Surely there had to be a _limit_ somewhere. People couldn't just come barging in at all hours as they pleased with their endless requests and problems. For Planet's sake, the WRO was only _human_, it couldn't solve _everything_. It needed time and manpower and resources, all of which it didn't have, and if projects were behind schedule, _it wasn't his fault_.

"Mr. Tuesti?" A hesitant voice cut through his mental tirade.

"Oh. Shelke, Director Ryden, what can I do for you? As you can see, I'm a bit overloaded at the moment." Reeve attempted a strained smile.

"There's a problem – " Shelke started, but was cut off by Ryden, "I've tried convincing her, Commissioner, but she refuses to listen to me. It's unexpected, I admit, but it's certainly _not_ a problem, sir."

"Director, I want the _facts_ please. Whether or not your opinion is relevant is another matter altogether. Lay it on me, Shelke." Reeve massaged his temples wearily. _Problems, problems, problems… Since I came to WRO, there's been nothing but problems. Why can't the Planet try sending us a miracle instead, I don't know._

"You asked me to research on more information relating to Deepground. I discovered that the various experiments conducted on the soldiers were not contained. There are people out there _not_ in the Deepground programme that carry the genetic traits of the Tsviets. Fortunately, these genes are homozygous recessive, and it's extremely unlikely that any of the phenotypes will surface in the population."

"There! You see?" Ryden snapped triumphantly. "Your case is void, Ms. Rui."

Shelke ignored him, "However, in certain circumstances, these genes can be 'switched on', like in the presence of extreme danger, another Tsviet, or after prolonged exposure to mako radiation. This awakening will trigger residual memories of the original Tsviet whom the gene was taken from, and the individual may then exhibit their traits and abilities. In this case, the affected individual is Commander Sab Artimieva of Delta Six, and the original 'donor' of the gene is Nero the Sable."

Ryden immediately jumped in, "I can vouch for Commander Artimieva, Commissioner. Her loyalty to the WRO is unquestionable, Deepground links or not."

_Not content to rest in your grave, are you, ShinRa? Every step that we take, we lose so much more than we're prepared to give, and all because of you. You still plot and counter-plot to bring the world to its knees, though you've gone to dust and decay. But I guess old habits die hard. _

Reeve waved Ryden away, "Where is Commander Artimieva?"

This time, the Director looked discomfited, "… She's in Midgar, clearing out the ShinRa building with Delta Six. SpecOps assignment, sir."

_Gaia, this just gets worse with every passing minute… …_

"Is there any chance we can recall her? And why wasn't this told to me earlier?" Reeve tapped his fingers distractedly against the desktop.

"No. It's already an hour into the mission. They'll make contact at 0200 hours, but not before then. The comms in Midgar are down and the satellite reception is terrible." Ryden looked nervous but defiant, "Sir, this is absurd! It's not been actually _confirmed_ that the Deepground soldiers are still alive, or that this… this," he glared at Shelke, "her information is correct. We can't just act on a…a random report!"

Reeve suddenly knew was Ryden was being so defensive. The Director had been the mastermind of SpecOps and Delta Six. Any incidents concerning SpecOps veterans would permanently shelve the project, especially since support had been frigid from the start. _The WRO is a peace-keeping organization, Ryden, not the band of mercenaries you're so keen to amass and head. _

Shelke disagreed, shaking her head grimly,"I'm sorry, sir. The file was encrypted and it took me ages to obtain clearance to read it. But we can't put the lives of other WRO agents at risk either. If this…if Artimieva really does have Deepground genes, the consequences will be unthinkable. We could call Avalanche in for backup, maybe…"

"No!" Ryden snarled, slamming his hands down on Reeve's desk, "This is strictly SpecOps, Commissioner. What happens in here stays in here. I am _not_ having outsiders poking their noses into our business!"

The Director eyeballed Shelke savagely. He had never bothered to conceal his distaste for the ex-Deepground soldier, and he certainly didn't attempt to hide the raw rancor in his voice even now.

Ryden struggled to maintain his composure, and then plowed on, "I am afraid, Commissioner, that Ms. Rui has completely failed to consider the repercussions of engaging external help. The world is still reeling from the Deepground debacle five years ago. Then, we failed to contain the threat, and Avalanche had to step in. People don't remember WRO soldiers going to help them; what they remember is Cloud Strife and Co. charging into Junon while our armed corps collapsed at the mercy of the enemy. If we call them in again, it's just going to reinforce the majority view that the WRO is a lame duck and the world would be better off with the likes of Strife and Wallace at the reins – something that _must not_ happen. Leave this to internal security to handle. I'm confident that the WRO is capable of containing this threat."

Ryden did not have a pleasant disposition, but this time, Reeve found himself nodding in agreement. The man _did_ have a point. The WRO could do without widespread public dissent – the organisation's approval ratings were sub-zero, and had been for several weeks already. Not to mention that the murmurs of dissatisfaction were already escalating into shouts of anger, or that Rufus ShinRa was lurking in the wings with his Turks, ready to rule once again.

"Then what do you propose us to do?"

"Send in a strike force. Delta Six will be informed that the squad is there to support them, and Artimieva need not suspect a thing. In the event that she… defects, which I am extremely sure will _not_ happen; the squad will move in to neutralize the threat." Ryden spoke with the calm authority of one that has gotten things under control.

_Certainly he had_, Reeve thought bitterly. From day one, the man had sought to underwrite almost everything in WRO, with or without the Commissioner's permission. Ryden was efficient in his duties, eager even. But he was also ambitious, and the desire for power was a double-edged sword. Rufus had been ambitious. So had been Lazard Deusericus, his bastard half-brother; so too, had Genesis Rhapsodos. But all had fallen, and all had brought the world down with them.

In this case, however, Reeve had no other option than to trust Ryden. _But how much will it cost us, and how much will you take? _

He sighed, "Very well, Director. Proceed."

"But – " Shelke protested.

"Shelke, you heard me. Assist Director Ryden in any way possible in mobilizing the retrieval squadron."

"Yes sir." Her voice was tinged with defeat.

"You can count on me, sir." Ryden smiled, confident and composed now that the game was his.

Reeve nodded. _I can only hope so. Please, don't let this be another mistake._

And somewhere else, on the giant chessboard that was the gods' eternal game, the final piece slid into place. On the fringes, unseen, cogs swung into frantic motion. _It was time_.

_A/N: Never thought Bio would ever become part of a fanfic, though I suspect my teacher would have a fit if he read this. _


	6. Emperor

**Chapter Six: Emperor**

ShinRa building had fallen, and with it, the last visible evidence that ShinRa had once ruled supreme over the earth. But deep underground, the company's influence remained inexorably, unchanging and ever-present. ShinRa might have collapsed, but the evil the corporation had spawned would stay to plague the planet.

Consciousness came slowly, dragging its feet and lugging a huge payload of bodily repercussions behind it. Sab groaned and came to, wincing as the pain dug its claws in with renewed vigour.

"So it's awake." The voice was heavily sardonic and uncannily familiar.

She leapt up, half-snarling, fingers going for her gun - except that it _wasn't_ there, and her head throbbed so violently that the world spun, forcing her to sit back down again.

A low chuckle and the shifting of fabric as someone moved, "Tsk, tsk. Violence won't get you anywhere, Artimieva, even though it did away with Rosso for you."

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sab growled, eyes raking her surroundings, looking for possible escape routes. She was sitting on a makeshift pallet in bunker. One entire wall was taken up by various monitors, wires and cables; the others were bare. There was only one visible exit, and it was blocked because someone was standing directly in front of it. _Damn_.

The man had a shock of silver hair which caught the feeble light, glittering in a way that hair should not. Most striking of all, though, were the sheathed gunblades that protruded from either side of his back. Sab had a strong feeling that his weapons were very definitely not for show. _This is bad. Very bad._

"Questions, questions, questions." The man sighed, "I am Weiss the Immaculate, emperor of Deepground – or whatever that is left of it, thanks to you idiots. As for how I know your name… there is little I do not know. What I should be asking is _what do you want with me and Deepground_."

_Deepground? From the very moment I stepped into this accursed building until now I've been hearing that blasted word. _"_What_ the hell is Deepground?" Sab snapped back. She rubbed her aching temples wearily, hoping the pain would recede. It didn't.

"You really don't know?" Weiss cocked his head, giving her a look that said: you're unbelievable, "And to think that you have Nero's gift, and not know what it is…" he muttered, mostly to himself.

She glared back in stony silence.

"Deepground was an R and D project initiated by ShinRa Sr, under the SOLDIER programme. What was it the scientists told us? Oh yes, the entire purpose of Deepground was to make the world a safer place. That we, the Tsviets, might suffer, so that _President_ ShinRa's hold on his power and his coffers would be absolute. We were _made_ to kill and destroy." Weiss's smile was bitter.

"But of course we rebelled. I will bow to no-one and I will never kneel before anyone. So it was then; so it is now. Then…" He grimaced, as though remembering something that pained him, "Enough of that. Drink."

She caught the bottle he had spun over to her with a casual flick of his wrist, her eyes never leaving him, "What's – "

Weiss rolled his eyes wearily, "Health potion, it won't kill you. If I had wanted to kill you, Artimieva, I would have done so a long time ago. I had all of two hours to do it."

She didn't believe him. But then again, what choice did she have? She was alone, unarmed and injured, and he was most definitely a maniac, so she emptied the bottle.

Weiss was giving her an odd look, "I must say that you don't exactly look like him, or that you're anything I expected you to be."

_What the hell?_ "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do you really?" Weiss smirked, "Then read this. It's about the only reason you're still alive."

It was a battered, ancient dossier, the pages stained with the passage of time and the wear of decay. Sab was about to make a snide remark about how the Stone Age was well and flourishing underground, but threw the comment out the window as she read the first worm-eaten page, because the memories were rushing back.

* * *

_The walls are steel, rigid and immovable. She flings herself against them, trying to rip them down, but to no avail. All she knows is the savage pang of heartbreak, caught here alone without the only person in the whole wide world who has truly mattered to her. _

"_Stand down, Nero!" The order is crisp and stentorian, brooking no argument. _

_She wheels, a snarl rising in her throat. How dare they, the bastards? She must have her brother. Without Weiss, she is lost. Without Weiss, she is damned. Without Weiss, the world ends, and her with it. _

_The soldiers move, but too slowly. Darkness claims them all; shadows steal their souls. But still there is no Weiss, and she slumps against the wall, sobbing. She has won the battle, but lost the war._

* * *

_Lights, harsh and gleaming, cut through the thick unintelligible haze of pain. The glare was accompanied by voices, but the words are too muted and too hurried to make sense of what the people are saying. Now and then brief fragments of conversation catch her ears._

"…_need to make several incisions at the base of the cranium…."_

"…_No, it's too dangerous. Target the pons instead, less chance of failure…"_

"…_.get ready to implant the chip and…."_

_Jostling and a brief bout of cursing. The world flipped, and then darkness. Cold steel pressing against the nape of her neck, biting into her flesh, and the sharp throb is like nothing she has ever known before. She screams, high-pitched and wordless, and the world fades to oblivion._

* * *

_When she awakes the voices are gone. Again she is alone; but the worst has already been done to her. Weiss is gone; she cares not if she lives or dies. She stumbles to her feet, disorientated and weakened, ignoring the dull ache in her head, and looks up – straight into the blank eyes of her reflection. _

_Maddened red orbs meet her gaze. A muzzle winds its way across her face, metallic gleam stark in the lamplight. She is bound so securely it is impossible to move her arms; they are caught in a hideous straitjacket. Skeletal wings protrude from her shoulders, swaying slightly with her every movement. She looks like a harbinger from the Underworld. Is that what I am, she wonders, a fallen angel? Or am I worse, a beast - one that has to be chained and whipped into submission, one that does nothing but kill?_

"_Nero." _

_She spins, so fast she almost loses her balance and falls over. That voice, so longed-after and sought-for… but that could not be. Weiss was gone._

_But there he was, nonetheless, behind her, smiling._

"_Weiss…." _

_If this bondage is the price she had to pay for being reunited with her brother, she will gladly pay it. She has never known happiness, but it is __**this**__ she lives for. She steps forward, and they meet._

* * *

"But that's just….. just…" Sab shook her head numbly, trying to find the right words and failing, "just… I don't know… it's _just not possible_."

Weiss looked at her, ice-blue eyes glittering, "If it's any consolation to you, _Artimieva_, I don't like this, any more than _you_ do."

He turned away, fingers clenching, "But as usual, there is little I can do about it. I cannot kill you, because to do that would be disrespectful to Nero. Nor can I let you live, because you, like him, cannot control Oblivion. Sooner or later, it will destroy you, and those around you. The collateral damage will not be contained."

"I –" Sab didn't know what to say.

_This can't be true. Look… I was always told that I was… I __**am**__ Sab! Sable Artimieva, that's me, Commander of Delta Six, SpecOps sniper and deniable operative. I'm not Nero. I never… I wasn't in Deepground, I don't have a brother and I certainly __**don't**__ have magic – _

_**Remember the shadows**__, _said a voice that was darker than night's black, _**remember the dance that claimed Rosso. Remember me.**__**Nero the Sable, brother of Weiss. Nero, Oblivion's Keeper. Nero, darkness reborn.**__**That is who I am. And who you are.**_

They fell silent, in a kind of choking quiet that was almost unbearable. Sab tussled in vain with the truth and what she wanted so desperately to believe was a lie, while Weiss struggled to come to terms with the fact that Nero was still alive, but this Nero was not the Nero he wished to see. Or wanted to be reunited with, for that matter.

The bunker rattled suddenly, and the bark of carbines filled the air. Weiss swore, hands darting to his gunblades as he studied the view screens, "The WRO is here. Looking for you, perhaps?"

For a moment, his guard dropped, distracted as he was by the fracas outside rather than the agent on the inside. In that split second, Sab moved.

She flung herself forward, heading for the door that was the last barrier to freedom and safety. Weiss snarled furiously, wheeling to intercept her. But Sab was prepared this time. Dodging the blow, she kneed him in the groin; he folded, grunting, and she wrenched the door open, sprinting into the night.

"Hold your fire! I'm Sable Artimieva, WRO agent!" she yelled, squinting in the glare of gunbursts.

Every head turned towards her, even the agents who had just arrived on the scene. Then their gun barrels followed suit, and she realized in shock and horror that _they were firing at her because they __**meant**__ to kill her._


	7. Betrayal

**Chapter Seven: Betrayal**

She went down in roar of gunfire, tracer fire arcing over her head, disbelief cold in her heart. The WRO had forsaken her and she was their target. _Why?_

That was a question she didn't have an answer to. But right now, keeping out of a bin liner and staying alive and hopefully, intact, was far more important.

A Ret soldier popped up several meters from her and she ducked back into shadow. Some part of her brain registered that it was pointless; like Delta, the Ret Squad were equipped with Sense materia and NVGs, so it would be only a matter of minutes before her bluff was called.

The carbines were still going overtime. Slowly, she raised her head, inching above the block of debris that she'd been using as cover. It was suicidal, especially if there were any trigger-happy idiots hanging about, but since she was going to be dead soon, it didn't really matter. No sign of Weiss yet, so that was good. She had a feeling the next time they ran into each other, it wouldn't be for a handshake and a cup of tea.

The Ret soldier's back was to her. She spotted the tapered muzzle of a Dragunov SND and didn't need a second look to tell that that there would be a scope gaffer-taped to the barrel, or that he was sweeping the grounds to clear out anyone who wasn't one of his. _But he was sniping with his back left wide open_ -

Cold metal pressed into the back of her neck, and she cursed herself for being so careless. "One move…."

A blur of movement flashed in the corner of her eye. The gun muzzle leaped, the report deafeningly loud; but she had already flung herself down, out of harm's way. Then the wet sound of metal slicing through flesh and the all-too familiar thump of a body hitting the dirt. Another shot, and the sniper in front of her collapsed, his Dragunov clattering to the ground even as he spun to defend himself.

"Most unprofessional, Artimieva. You were caught out without your materia _and_ weapon." Weiss's voice was dry as he crouched beside her.

Sab gritted her teeth, "Only because you took them from me. I don't need your help." _Gaia, of all people that had to come to her aid, it had to be __**him**__. _

The Emperor raised an eyebrow mockingly, "And I'm sure that you would taken down both of them without any trouble, and then eliminated the entire squad with a snap of your fingers, am I right?"

"You're impossible, you know that, Immaculate?" she growled back, irately pushing herself up.

A scream cut the air, stopping Weiss's retort short. Instinctively, Sab made a grab for the Dragunov, only to have Weiss kick it out of the way.

"What the heck are you doing!?"

"I am _not_ having you kick me again, or shoot me in your pathetic escape attempts. You're not Houdini, for Planet's sake, so _stay where I can see you_."

"Oh yes, and so you'll let me die?" Sab shot back, annoyed.

Weiss glared, "After what you did to me, I really should. Here, these are better than SNDs at close range." He thrust two Desert Eagle IMIs at her, "And don't lose them, they're Nero's. Come on!"

He sprang ahead with catlike ease, darting from cover to cover and occasionally taking potshots at unwary WRO soldiers. _What does he think I am? A kid? What the heck does he mean, don't lose them! Bloody cheek! _Sab fumed, trailing after him. And stopped, just as suddenly as realization hit her. _That scream – it was Rosto's. He's down there!_

Weiss looked back, saw she wasn't following, scowled and returned. "And what's the problem now?"

"Rosto." She forced the word out through her throat. "He's down there. I have to help him."

He glanced down. The Ret soldiers were gaining on Delta operatives. Then he shook his head, "No."

"_What?"_ she spat. "Then I'm going on my own."

Weiss caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, fingers digging in forcefully. "_Sable Artimieva_. Listen to me. If you go down there _they will kill you_. Without you, your friends stand a better chance of getting away. They're not the main target. You are, and you have to go _now_."

He forcibly hauled her away, dragging her along with him. Sab hissed, felt Oblivion rise eagerly, its hunger fierce in her, but Weiss didn't even blink, "Stop it. You don't know how to use it. And anyway, you can't hurt me."

And down in the remains of ShinRa building, the blood flowed thick and fast as bullets slashed through the air. Leaderless, lost and confused, Delta never stood a chance against the WRO which had once nurtured it.

_A/N: Thought I'd post this first because this week is gonna be pretty hectic; got lots of school stuff to do. Updates will probably be next week, if I don't get swallowed alive by life in general._


	8. Veritas

**Chapter Eight: Veritas**

Sab had always known that Delta Six would never last forever. In such a job, operating under such conditions, compromise was inevitable. After all, Delta didn't even exist on paper; and no one outside the select echelons of the WRO even knew that the organization existed. The entire program was deniable, as were the operators that worked in it. Black Ops, Ryden called it; the agents used to joke that, damn right, it was as black as shit and the pay no better.

Screw-ups and being screwed over came with the contract she'd been made to sign. But she'd never thought that the WRO would actually slam the lid on them. After all, they – Delta - had been there for a reason, to clear up ShinRa's mess and keep the peace, and they had done quite a good job too. Now, however, the same organization that had founded and funded them had slaughtered them.

The realization was bitter, as was the feeling that she'd been nothing more than a tool in the hands of the Powers that Be, to be cast aside when its purpose had been exhausted. She'd wasted the better of five years, days and days of sweat and tears and blood, fighting endless battles for people who, at the end of the day, just didn't give a damn. _It isn't fair_, she wanted to scream, _what gives you fuckers the right to decide who lives and who dies at the snap of your fingers?_

Whoever that had orchestrated this would die. She would make sure of it herself.

"You're not focusing, Artimieva." Weiss snapped over the walkie-talkies they'd traded the stolen WRO jeep for, "Radio check, for the _fifth_ time. W on."

_None of your business,_ she wanted to retort, but remembered that they, unfortunately, were stuck in the same boat. They were being pursued by the same enemy, and both needed answers.

"I'm – fine. S on. S has, S has eyes-on target. Route complete."

_Click, click_ on the other end – apparently Weiss was too exasperated to bother replying, or he was stuck in a position where he could receive on the net but couldn't relay anything back to her.

The plan, as all off-the-cuff plans go, was simple. Both Sab and Weiss couldn't risk an outright ambush in daylight on the WRO – it would draw too much attention, nor did they have the luxury of time or resources at hand. The only solution was infiltration and even then that was no easy task. They could be jumped any minute because the city was crawling with WRO patrols, so they had to stay alert and be ready to move at the slightest notice. In order to make finding them harder, they'd split up.

From the exterior, the WRO was an impenetrable fortress. But from the underneath it was anything but. Junon had an extensive network of drains linking every building from one end of the city to the other. No one ventured there; the sewers were disease-haunted and rat-infested, and thus, perfect for their purposes.

Sab stepped casually behind a bin overflowing with rubbish, playing the dumb tourist gotten lost. She peered at a tattered map of the city grid that she'd picked up from a park bench, slowing down intentionally to let a man walking his dog pass her. Watched them go, and then, covertly checking that no one else was loitering around, pried open the drain lid and clambered in.

Somewhere else in Junon, Weiss was doing the same. She just hoped that none of them flapped, got lost and messed up.

"S is *foxtrot. Meet you at RV."

Weiss grunted noncommittally; in the background, she heard the rumble of traffic before the line shorted abruptly because the lid had _clanged_ back into place.

Earlier, she'd hacked into Urban Redevelopment's mainframe using her WRO credentials to obtain visuals of the sewer system. Surprisingly, it had worked; they hadn't cut her out of the system – yet. It _could_ have been a trap, but Sab was willing to run that risk, because it was all they had.

Relying on memory, she headed off, squelching through the dark tunnels to what she hoped was the WRO.

It seemed to take hours, trudging through the blank blackness of the underground. Now and then she caught the glint of yellow eyes in the gloom, always hiding where the torch beam could not penetrate. The raw stink caught in her nose and throat and stayed there; gagging her with every breath she took. According to the map the entrance to the WRO HQ should be somewhere near here –

A hand gripped her wrist out of nowhere; she struck out, blindly, going for her gun – but someone seized her in an arm lock, pinning her against the wall.

"_Calm down_, Artimieva. It's me. Weiss." Then a hiss, "_Be_ _quiet_. Unknowns up there."

Too late. Footsteps, quick and urgent, followed by the orange blaze of materia. "Who's there? Identify yourself!"

The voice was feminine and strangely emotionless. _Shelke?_ Sab frowned.

Weiss snarled; even in the gloom Sab could see the rage written all over his face. He was already in motion before she could even stop him, lunging towards Shelke with murderous intent.

"Shelke the Transparent. So we meet," he sneered, "again."

She heard Shelke's gasp, "It's – it's you."

"Indeed. Your Emperor, whom you betrayed. You know, Shelke," Weiss's tone was ominously pleasant, "the only persons I can't stand on this Planet beside Hojo are spineless traitors. Like _you_, for instance."

_Shit. He's going to kill her, and there's going to be fuck-all I can do about it if that happens. She can't die – yet. _

She sprang up, mimicking Weiss's earlier movements, cannoning straight into him and sending him off balance. Shelke wavered, swinging to face her, "Artimieva. You are still alive."

"Understatement of the year, Shelke. Correction: I'm alive, majorly pissed off and _I_ _want answers_."

"Evil must be put down." Shelke was as maddeningly composed and deadpan as ever, orange eyes giving nothing away.

A _click_. Sab leveled both Desert Eagles squarely at Shelke, "Don't give me any of that shit. You people killed _my_ teammates. Delta didn't do _anything_ against the WRO. Whatever you told us to do, we did. And now you're shoveling the crap on us big time. What did you call us? Evil? You're no better than ShinRa. No better than Jenova." She curled her lip disgustedly, "I don't know what you and Ryden are doing, Ms. Rui, but you'd better stop playing silly buggers because I have had _enough_ of being screwed about."

Shelke's eyes widened, "No. No…You were the only target. Delta was to be recalled –"

_So that's how the game goes, eh?_ Sab fought the sudden violent urge to splatter someone's brains out on the wall. _Plot and counter-plot, and lies upon lies… _

The anger snapped through her, made her want to tear the world apart and send it rocking on its axis, as hers had been so brutally undone, "You utter _bastard_."

It didn't matter who'd given the orders. The entire corporation was guilty; one way or another _everyone_ had, indirectly or directly, contributed to the deaths, the _murders_ of the people who'd been the closest thing to family that she'd had. _**And they will die for this, pay the price with their blood and souls**_, said a voice that was not hers. She felt the shadows uncoil, saw Shelke back away and sprint off– _why do you run, fool?_

Her shoulder burst into a blaze of pain; she stumbled, half-falling and Oblivion retreated, reluctantly. _What the –_

"Sable. You left such a trail behind in the system, I couldn't help but notice." The voice was mild-mannered, belying the casual brutality the owner had shown earlier by stabbing his colleague. "I hate to break this up, but you and your friend must go soon. And I doubt killing Shelke would help solve your problem – she is only the tip of the iceberg."

"Vladimir. You knew." It was not so much a question as a statement.

The head of WRO's Intel smiled thinly, "I guessed as much. You're not the only one that's been pushed out into the cold. Reeve is no longer Commissioner of the WRO; Ryden is."

Sab noticed that he hadn't lowered his gun, and that it was still aimed at them. She tilted her head, keeping her eyes locked on his, not letting down her guard. They circled each other warily.

"Explain."

"People don't necessarily need reasons to do anything. Some will do anything for everything." Vladimir was watching her with an almost detached expression on his face, "Ryden, for example."

"What about him? Stop playing games with me, Vladimir." Sab growled. Blood trickled down her arm; her injured hand was trembling with the effort of keeping the gun up.

"It is said that who the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad with power." He shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know what Ryden intends to do... but he 'accidentally' let slip the classified information about your Deepground links to the Board, and it's been hate fodder ever since. Reeve's been accused of knowingly hiding a viper in the WRO, of treason, corruption and money-laundering. He did the only thing he could: he resigned."

"You and Delta were just collateral damage, little more than means to Ryden's ends. And now that you've escaped, repercussions won't be too far off. I suggest that you get out of here as fast as possible and find safe harbor elsewhere. Wutai isn't too bad a start. Lie low until the storm's blown over – "

"Don't give me that bull. Where's Ryden?" Weiss demanded angrily, raising his gunblades.

"Not here." His grey eyes gave nothing away, "I can't tell you that because I don't know where he is, but I know someone who might."

A crash, and the sound of something caving in came from the corridors. Vladimir's eyes flickered to the doorway and back, "So Shelke lost no time in alerting her new friends. Avalanche is here. _Go_. I will hold them."

_The roof, _he mouthed, even as he spun back to the door, gun at the ready. They ran just as the door imploded, spinning in on its hinges, Nanaki and Cloud at the fore.

Sab glanced back for an instant, and saw _him_, black blazer stark against the blinding flash of gun flares, outnumbered but defiant nonetheless. _So alone,_ she thought. Then they rounded a corner, and the sounds died away altogether.

*foxtrot - on the move

_A/N: Life is just asdjkfvAAARGH at the moment. I promise I'll try to update soon, yeah?_


	9. Lifeline

**Chapter Nine: Lifeline**

Concrete and steel gave way to harsh morning light and the howling of the wind. If there was any indication of the salvation they might find on the rooftop, there was none. No one and nothing waited for them; the grating rumble of the streets below punctuated the emptiness, like a mocking laugh. Weiss glanced around sharply, squinting in the bright glare, "Now what?"

The question hung unspoken before them, but each knew what the other was thinking. _How long can he last?_

"Don't know."

Sometimes it was better to admit that they were in the shit and this was one of them. Sab sat down, leaning against the metre-high wall that was meant to stop the directors from falling off after they'd had a drink too many.

Weiss stared in disbelief, "You're going to just sit here and wait?" He brandished his gunblades angrily, "I can't believe you're going to go down without a fight!"

"Doesn't seem like there're too many options, does it?" she snapped back, eyes locked on the entrance to the rooftop, "And who said _anything_ about not retaliating?"

He snarled. She sensed Omega briefly, uglier and stronger and darker, lurking just beneath, as eager to take over as Oblivion was. Then it faded as Weiss rubbed his eyes wearily, clawing back control, "No. There aren't."

So this was it. No escape routes, no backup, no plans, nothing; and once again it was back to facing the enemy with nothing more than a near-empty cartridge and her wits, both of which weren't exactly bulletproof.

She reloaded and checked chamber. A _snick_ as the clip snapped snugly back into place. Not looking at Weiss, she readied the guns, "It's been nice knowing you."

"Same here– "

A ninja battle scream ripped the air, followed by the unmistakable _thud-thud-thud_ of a gigantic shuriken slicing its way toward them. _Looks like the cavalry is finally here._

"I'll take three; watch the rest. And if all fails, get ready to run like hell." She wheeled so both of them were standing back-to-back.

Weiss's reply was lost in the melee that ensued. Sab leapt, changed feet and leapt again, ducking the bullets that rained around her. Then Nanaki was upon her, fangs and claws tearing skin and drawing blood. _Shit. _

She lashed out with her boot, heard his howl peter out into a shrill yelp as the steel-capped toe met with flesh. Fired again, even as Cloud sprung into action. Twisted to duck as First Tsurugi scythed toward her.

"There's no way you can win this." Mako eyes so unlike Weiss's glared at her, "Come along with us quietly and there won't be any trouble."

Sab's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You know _nothing_ of trouble, Strife."

Oblivion raced its way through her veins, leaving a savage thrill in its wake. The heady rush of power and the feeling that she could do _anything_ and _everything_ was both electric and terrifying at once. So _this_ was what Nero felt; _this_ was what it was like to be in control at last.

Cloud furrowed his brows, as though he was trying to figure out how she was going to beat all of them on her own. _Rather thick, isn't he_, she thought as the darkness coiled around him. _You would think he'd pick up on the threat, but no…_ Strife let out an enraged yell and thrashed about frantically, trying to free himself from Oblivion's grip, but to no avail. With a final hiss, the shadows swallowed the ex-SOLDIER.

So. Two down, one to go. There was starting to be a good chance that maybe, just maybe, she could get out of this alive.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, _Sable_. At first I thought you nothing more than a nuisance, but now it seems that I can no longer let you run about unchained." Dry amusement coloured the gunman's usually deadpan voice.

These were words lost in memory and time, but she recalled them anyway; another battle, another place, another war fought and lost, blood-streaked and brutal, against a foe far stronger than she. And in the churning maelstrom of blurred recollection and distant pasts, rose a name to match the terror.

_**Chaos, **_Oblivion snarled, _**I haven't forgotten**_**. **

Cerberus swept up, three barrels glinting coldly in the light of the sun. Vincent was drawing down on her, revolver aimed at her centre mass. He stepped back so there was too much of a distance between them for Sab to react. _Bastard_. He might have been ages out of the Turks, but he was still sharp at what he did.

"Drop the guns and put your hands up."

There was no need for more words; what use was pleading when death stared you in the face? But while she had Oblivion… she laughed and leapt forward. Valentine's finger closed around the trigger and the gun spat. The bullets were swallowed in shadow; she heard them clatter distantly onto cement. Then she forgot about everything else, because an ice-cold gauntlet had closed around her throat.

There was shouting on both sides, Vincent from surprise and Sab from the pain. They grappled, struggling for supremacy. She twisted and kicked, trying to break his hold, but this only made the razor-edged fingers dig in, drawing blood. She was snorting and wheezing now, breath coming in choked gasps as her vision blurred, blacking out at the edges.

She clawed at him blindly, survival instincts kicking into overdrive, driving her to kick, punch and bite; _anything_ to get more oxygen. Valentine hadn't slackened his grip one bit; he just kept tightening his hold, squeezing the breath out of her.

Her frantically grasping fingers encountered his hair; she wrenched back on it, snapping his head back. Vincent grunted in pain and his grip slackened for an instant. It was enough. Sab slammed an elbow into his solar plexus and wrenched free, punching him again for good measure. She staggered away, coughing and gasping like a fish out of water. The world spun crazily, leaving her dazed and disorientated. She could taste iron in her mouth, and spat blood.

_Shit_. It looked like they were going to be well and truly stitched up this time. Vincent was getting to his feet and if that tell-tale red glow in his eyes was any indicator, there was going to be _major_ hell to pay. The rational solider's part of her screamed at her to run, but she was no more capable of doing so than flying. Chaos roared, wings stretching towards the heavens and eyes blazing gold with fury. Weiss was running towards the creature, but he was moving too slowly. In a minute she would be dead and then –

Heat and light exploded abruptly, the inferno passing so close to her that she could smell the ashyness of singed flesh. Vincent was hurled back by the salvo of gunfire, Chaos screaming its disgust. _What? Wait – where on earth did that come from?_

It was utter and complete pandemonium on the ground. AVALANCHE – or at least, what was left of it - was trying to close ranks and avoid becoming sitting targets at the same time. Above them, a lone 'copter wheeled, the pilot taking leisurely potshots at the vigilantes.

Perched comfortably in his seat, the co-pilot beckoned. The meaning was clear: _get in._ As he leaned forward, Sab caught a glimpse of a darkened visor which completely obscured his face. Whoever their rescuers were, they definitely didn't want to be recognized. Was this the help that Vladimir had hinted at? Whatever; it didn't matter. They needed to get away and this was the best and only chance they would get.

"Took their bloody time coming, what? And about time too." Weiss carped, coming up alongside her. Like her, he was streaked with blood and limping. His gunblades glistened a deep, wet crimson as he slung them over his shoulders.

They vaulted forward and squeezed through the door. Bullets _zinged_ behind them, pounding into the side of the 'copter. Barret was very clearly reluctant to let his quarry escape. The minute they were through, the pilot gunned the throttle and the ground dropped away.

With a casual flick of his wrist, the pilot ripped off his helmet, "Bloody 'ell, an' I thought I was gonna suffocate in 'ere. Damn Tseng, who gives a damn 'bout protocol?"

His co-pilot made a disapproving grunt, but was ignored as his colleague turned back to regard them, "You lot all right?"

Red hair. Green eyes. That smirk and that unforgettable air of casual insolence. Sab knew him all right, so much for Opsec*.

"Reno. What the _hell_ is going on?"

*Opsec – Operational security

_A/N: I blame school for the delay. What is **wrong **with you college, you BAMF of a thing? _


	10. Once a ShinRa, always a ShinRa

**A/N: **Just want to thank **all you guys** for your continued reviews, patience, encouragement and support, especially** Jason ****Tandro**, **ElleXVI **and **ZakuReno. **I really, really, really appreciate your readership and I cannot express my gratitdue to everyone enough. :)

Well, yes, on another note - I am BACK! :D So yep, this is the next installation and I hope that you guys like it!

**Chapter Ten: Once a ShinRa always a ShinRa**

The redhead shrugged eloquently, "Don' know, mate. Me, I'm jus' the pilot. Anyway, what's the rush, eh? Yer gonna find out real soon, don' worry."

Sab's eyes narrowed, "It's _Rufus_, isn't it?"

Her question met stubborn silence, but she didn't need an answer. Wherever the Turks were, there the ShinRa heir would be too. Eight years had passed since Geostigma, but she was prepared to bet her last bullet that Rufus hadn't changed a single bit. It would take a lot more than the Planet's wrath to reform a man like _that_, she thought sourly.

She'd spent more than half her life fighting ShinRa, first the father, and then the son. In that period of time, she'd learnt more than she'd ever wanted to know about the baser side of Man's nature. ShinRa had not only polluted the planet, they'd torn it apart, killing it with every drop of mako ripped from Gaia's veins.

They hadn't limited themselves to profits, either. Oh no, the ShinRa dream was too grand, too big for that. They wanted supremacy; they worshipped power and would do _anything_ for it. And that included killing innocents indiscriminately, amongst other things. Torture, for instance. She had lost count of how many people she'd seen go out to face the SOLDIERS or Turks and never return again, or if they did, they came back as beasts courtesy of Hojo's labs, killing in mindless intent.

The thought of being indebted to _Rufus ShinRa_, of all people, made her skin crawl. In the depths of her mind, Oblivion shifted restlessly, sensing her anger. _Later_, she told it, feeling its primal hunger gnawing at her thoughts.

The 'copter dipped. They were going in for the final descent. Blue skies sank to be replaced by rust-orange outcrops, which vanished altogether in the clouds of dust tossed up by the 'copter's blades. Weiss tensed almost imperceptibly, eyes flickering to the hatch.

Sab shot him a questioning glance, but he merely frowned and shook his head. _Not now_. She shrugged and let the matter drop.

They were hustled out of the heli and down a warren of labyrinthine corridors. Sab lost count after the first few turnings, and stumbled after Reno as best as she could in the musty near-darkness. She could hear Weiss cursing under his breath behind her, and several times they banged into each other because either one of them had misjudged the distance.

"Watch yer head!" Reno's warning came a moment too late.

Sab snarled as a starburst of pain exploded in her head. She'd whacked it against the low doorframe.

Reno peered apologetically down at her, "Sorry. I keep forgettin' 'bout that. Yer all right?"

"Yeah, walking into doors is my hobby. _No,_ Reno, I'm _not _alright. Where the hell is your boss? Hiding somewhere like the yellow-bellied skunk he is?" she retorted, stemming the slow trickle of blood coursing down her face.

"As a matter of fact, Ms. Artimieva, I'm _here_."

His voice was as she remembered it, cultured upper Midgar accent accentuating the r's, mixed in with the familiar intolerable _smugness_ that made her fists itch, and his dressing was still the same, white on black, shadow and light contrasted, but – Rufus ShinRa, once the world's most powerful man, was paralysed.

Rumour had it that ShinRa was a victim of Geostigma, but Sab had chosen to think of it as a ploy to get the WRO to let down their guard. _Never underestimate a ShinRa,_ the saying had gone, _or come tomorrow your bones will be six feet under_. Yet… she deflated in mid-snarl, feeling the bile draining out of her comeback. Chanced a glance at Weiss, saw there too the same confusion flitting across his face.

ShinRa carried on smoothly, showing no sign that he'd noticed their unease, "I trust your journey here has been relatively uneventful. Now that you're here, we can finally start."

"What the heck are you talking about, ShinRa?" Weiss growled, "Give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now for all you've done to my brother and I, you stinking bas– "

He halted mid-sentence, feeling a gun muzzle press warningly against his spine. Rude was making his presence felt.

"If you hadn't realized, Immaculate, you and Artimieva both owe me your lives. Hardly a small debt, I believe. If Reno and Rude hadn't turned up when they did, you would have been fodder for Chaos and co. And if you disobey me, I shall have do my duty as a law-abiding citizen and turn you in. Ryden, I understand, is not too pleased about your… escapades."

Sab snorted. _Once a ShinRa, always a ShinRa._ Paralysed or not, Rufus had still retained his ability to bite back – and savagely. She'd just been used by Ryden, now they were going to be Rufus's puppets. Kjata _really_ had a sick sense of humour. Still, better alive than dead.

"Very well." She shrugged, ignoring Weiss's glare, "It's not like we've got much choice anyway."

Rufus smiled, thin-edged and triumphant, "I'm glad we can see eye to eye. Now, please _listen_, because I'm only going to say this once."

When he finished, the room was utterly quiet.

_You want to destroy Ryden… before he in turn brings you down. Your power plays never cease, do they, Rufus? _

But never mind. Revenge was enough. In the past, she would have refused. Once upon a time, the outcome would have mattered to her – for instance, what Rufus planned to do with the WRO after Ryden was out of the picture. Now… she didn't care, and neither did Oblivion, "It appears we have the same objective in mind."

Rufus met her gaze coolly, "Indeed."

* * *

Weiss wheeled on her forcefully, eyes glittering in wrath, "Are you _insane_!? ShinRa _cannot_ be trusted!"

"Quit questioning the obvious, Immaculate," Sab sighed. They'd gone over this so many times before that she had lost count, "We're fugitives on the run. The WRO and AVALANCHE are out in full force looking for us. We don't have the resources to locate Ryden and drop him, but ShinRa can help us there. We can't do this without them."

Oblivion was edgy and so was she. It was annoying, this _waiting_. All she wanted to do now make Ryden pay, big-time. All Weiss was doing, however, was getting into her face with his endless accusations and questions and she was wearying of it, "Look, if you're so against this, you can _leave_. No one said we were _partners_."

The hurt that flashed across his face was oddly satisfying.

"You're _obsessed_." He spat angrily, and then stormed out, leaving her alone at last.

_**All the better**_, Oblivion hissed, in the wake of silence that followed.

* * *

_Infil, search and destroy, exfil. _Sab ran over the mission in her head again. It helped breaking the whole thing down into stages – it simplified matters, and made remembering what she had to do easier if she flapped and messed up halfway.

She'd briefed them all the night before. Reno and Rude would create a distraction, which she and Weiss would use to sneak into the WRO's Nibelheim branch. The next leg of the mission would be utterly up to them – find Ryden and terminate him. Last would be getting out of the area before reinforcements arrived. She was horribly aware that it sounded a lot easier than it actually was. For one, the WRO was watched round the clock by hundreds of electronic eyes that recorded every movement. Another was that ever since becoming Commissioner, Ryden was constantly surrounded by his bodyguards - trigger-happy ex-SOLDIERS. It wasn't even _confirmed_ he had holed up in Nibelheim; Tseng had said he was only about seventy-five percent sure the intel was reliable. Finally, she had wound up with Mr. Uncooperative-Sulks-A-Lot (aka Weiss the Immaculate) for a partner. _Great_, she thought sourly. It all added up to bullet-riddled corpses and painful deaths. Not good at all.

Sab checked her guns again. She'd decided to keep Nero's IMIs, turning down Rufus's offer to get her more advanced weapons. _You've got it coming to you, Ryden_.

Besides her, Weiss muttered something unintelligible about half-arsed preparations and arrogant, obsessed WRO soldiers, but she ignored him. Her eyes were trained on the distant pin-prick of black below that was the Turks' vehicle. She tensed. Any minute now….

A distant boom, and the checkpoint erupted in flames. _Now. _


	11. Last Ace in the Deck

**Chapter 11 – Last ace in the deck **

_A/N: Apologies for the long hiatus _ I've taken on more things than I can handle in college, and everything is just jam-packed with explosions and falling apart, but no, **I haven't forgotten about the fic. **:)_

_Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and reading! :D_

Without waiting for Weiss, she kicked off first, igniting the nitrous burners on her skyboard. It shot upwards, buoyed by a gust of pale blue flame, and was almost immediately cut down by a volley of gold energy bursts. Clearly, the WRO weren't taking any chances. And neither was she.

Sab swerved sharply, dropping down away to the left, and the ploy worked. The beams shot by overhead, turning to fizzle out in mass of harmless gold sparks as they dissipated. She dropped into a low crouch, drawing the IMIs from their holsters just in time to ward off another bruising attack from a passing WRO drone. Apparently, Reno and Rude's diversion hadn't only taken out the guards at the main gate; they'd raised enough hell to bring the entire WRO division posted in Nibelheim after both her and Weiss.

Tseng's voice came on air, faint, crackly and riddled with static, "Touchdown in five, four, three – "

The connection wavered and broke altogether as an armoured WRO cruiser screeched up to her right, tyres screeching and turret rotating to lock its sights on her. _Shit_. The enemy was well on the move already, and probably – heck, _definitely,_ ten steps ahead of them. Comms were jammed, and the calvary wasn't going to come over the next hill guns a-firing. This was it, pure and simple. They were on their on.

"Drop your weapons and cease fire. Repeat, drop your weapons and cease fire. You are trespassing on WRO territory. We don't want to hurt you, but – "

A pre-recorded voice cut across the roar of the wind, the standard WRO warning, taught to all green horns on the first day of training. In the worst case scenario, maim but not kill. Never kill. They were enforcers of the law, not brute mercenaries. Or so Tuesti's impassioned speech had been.

"_We _will if we have to." She grinned mirthlessly, finishing off the sentence.

But today was different. Today she'd been betrayed. Today she'd lost all trust in _everything_. Today, the very same agency that had fostered her teammates had led them all like lambs to the slaughter. And so today would hold no mercy. Not from her, not ever again.

The red glow of Summon materia was already forming in her left fist, raised up in the air. The air shuddered and coalesced as _something_ was drawn out of it void, returning to consciousness and _fury_ at being so rudely wrenched out from its aeons-long sleep. Sleipnir screamed to life, eight legs effortlessly finding purchase on thin air as it hurled itself forward; Odin iron-helmed astride its back. Silver limned the air as he drew his blade. It danced, drawing blood and shattering bone and bringing time to complete standstill. Then he faded altogether, leaving death hanging in his wake.

"The _shit_, Artimieva!" Weiss drew up alongside her, stunned at the neatly-halved corpses strewn below them.

"Just giving Ryden a reunion present especially from me." She clicked the materia back into its slot, eyes scanning the battlefield. "Now let's go. Time enough wasted."

"You – " For once, the Emperor was lost for words. He shot a worried glance at her retreating back, then, more cautiously, edged his skyboard into gear. _Nero_ would never have done that, he knew. The strange intensity in her eyes that bordered almost on obsession frightened him. It reminded him almost of _Hojo_, ages and ages ago. When Omega… _No. _But it couldn't be, could it? Oblivion was nowhere strong as Omega. It was only a fragment of Chaos, a pale reflection of its original. And yet… The ease with which the girl channeled Oblivion was unprecedented. She was far more adept at controlling shadows than Nero had ever been, or would ever be. Or was it the other way around; that Oblivion was _using _her?

He bit his lip agitatedly even as he parried a stop-thrust and ran yet another WRO veteran through with his gunblade. So many questions, yet the answers were painfully lacking. And worse, he had absolutely no idea exactly _what_ they were heading straight into.

Reeve Tuesti was _not_ having a good day. First, he'd been framed. For lots of things, none of which he actually _knew_ about, and all of which he had no plausible answers for. Second, that sneaking, conniving, lying, _evil_ son of a gun Ryden had taken over _his_ WRO. Third, he'd been abducted forcibly by unnamed captors. Fourth, Cait Sith was nowhere to be found. And the list could go on and on. For example, his nose was frozen and his wrists were numb. And there were countless splinters digging into him _all_ _over_.

So when the blindfold was ripped off abruptly to reveal blinding light, he laid into the nearest person within earshot, "Screw you! I don't know anything, I don't have anything, and you're bloody fucking welcome to the shitstorm I'm stuck in _right now_! I-"

He paused to draw breath and new insults to vilify his kidnappers with.

"Mr. Tuesti, I assure you, I could not be more reluctant to take on the utter mess that constitutes the WRO right now." The voice was all too familiar and none too welcome, to Reeve's utter dismay.

"Well, _why_ on sweet Gaia would I _not_ be surprised, it's Rufus ShinRa! If you were looking for a position within the WRO and an appointment with me, you could have just _contacted_ me. By the orthodox ways of doing things, not espionage, blackmail, framing – but they're all just down your cosy little street, aren't they?" He growled irritably, blinking his watering eyes.

Behind him, someone sniggered.

"Please, Mr. Tuesti, _calm down_. Rude, untie him." Rufus was infuriatingly composed as usual, which only served to set Reeve on edge.

"_Explain_." The word left his lips soaked with anger and irritation. "I want to know what exactly – "

Rufus steepled his fingers on the table, looking for all the world as if Reeve was a petulant child and he, the world-weary parent tired of repeating things, "I'm helping you. As I always have."

"As you - What?" the Comissioner stared back, uncomprehending.

"You didn't think the donations came from thin air, did you?" ShinRa sighed, "They came direct from my bank account, Reeve. Think!"

"But they came from– " he spluttered vainly, struggling to come to terms with the earthshaking fact that_ Rufus ShinRa_ had been the one funding the WRO all this time, and he hadn't even realised.

"Disparate accounts, all by anonymous well-wishers, all credited regularly, all running into the millions." Rufus finished smoothly, "It was an investment which I had hoped wouldn't sour. I keep tabs on where my money goes, you know. It's only fair that way."

"You mean you were _spying_ on me!" Reeve thumped the table agitatedly. "Rufus, you've really gone one step too far this time!"

The blond waved off his rebuke, "I needed you to rebuild. The people would have _never_ accepted offers of help from a ShinRa, not even if they were dying. You raised entire _cities_ again, Reeve, and re-established the networks that linked them all together. The money I gave you opened up new pathways, for both the people and myself. You can't deny that. As for what part I play in this; I need to safeguard what I've got. If Ryden wins, I lose everything."

Rufus looked at him evenly, "You needn't be afraid; you'll be safe here. I've sent… people to terminate Ryden. He won't be a threat for long. But if they fail, we die."

The other man was right, Tuesti knew. As much as he hated Rufus, Reeve couldn't stand by and watch Ryden single-handedly bring down all he and his friends had done to salvage the Planet. Rufus had him. Reeve would do _anything _to ensure the survival of the WRO and all it stood for. Equality. Justice. Freedom. Peace. All of which the Planet needed, and all of which could be easily erased with a single, debilitating swipe. He would agree, because it was his only other option.

Torn by conflicting emotions, Reeve could hardly speak, "And… and the price?"

The disgraced president smiled, "_That_ will be my asking. You needn't worry. I'll call for the bill when I need it."

And all Reeve could think of, locked away Shiva-knew-where face to face with a cunning paralytic, numbed by cold, fear, anxiety and exhaustion was the sheer irony of what he was doing. He'd done exactly what he'd sworn _never_ to do – hand back control of _everything_, to the man who'd destroyed it all in the very first place. And there was not a single damned thing he could do about it.


	12. Oblivion Rising

**A/N: **Well, long hiatus was long.

**Chapter Twelve:**

Blood and pain and more pain, he remembered dully, white bright lights stabbing into his eyes, ropes biting into his torso, his legs, his arms. That was at the beginning, when he'd fought them tooth and nail, swearing and screaming until his throat bled and seared. Later, when the accumulated aches had taken their toll, they'd taken away the restraints. They didn't need to hold him down any more; he was so weak he couldn't move.

Always the same voices, always the same questions. Vladimir was sick, sick and tired of it all. _Where did they go, who helped them, why did you stop us, do you know the implications of your actions_, repeated a million and one times, until they rang in his skull even after his interrogators had left to do whatever they did behind his back.

He didn't know how long he'd been kept here, wherever _this_ was. Minutes had blended into hours, bleeding out into days and nights, perhaps even years. They'd done - - he didn't know - - a lot of things in the meantime. He hadn't eaten or drunk for what seemed an eternity, but that was the least of his worries. His left eye burned unceasingly, as though his cornea had been ripped, and his right was so swollen he could see nothing at all.

But he wouldn't give. Wouldn't tell them anything – and they'd done the worst to him they already had, or could. Vladimir was dying slowly but surely, but he would not give Avalanche the information they needed. He would win this round. These – these _fools_ would not vanquish him. He'd make sure of that, at the very least. The head of Intel wasn't going to go down without a good fight.

* * *

Nibelheim HQ swarmed with WRO agents, troopers and SpecOps veterans alike. Several of her old colleagues back in the days when Sab was a rookie charged past, barely even flicking a glance towards where she and Weiss crouched, discreetly cloaked by Oblivion's shifting shadows.

"I was hoping," Weiss muttered, "that you'd have a better idea than this." He gestured at the materia, "I mean, that's all very well, but it isn't going to stop them from noticing us for very long. And did anyone miss the part where I said that this was a _very bad idea_?"

"We kill Ryden," Sab stated, "And _then_ we can leave. But not until then."

The plan sounded deceptively simple. But then it was _always_ the simplest of ideas that got people killed, mainly because they were also the hardest to talk people out of, since they were so easily digested and absorbed.

_Kjata help me_. Weiss rolled his eyes. He didn't particularly mourn the loss of Deepground – Nero had been the only one in the elite programme he truly cared about – but the obedience his office had warranted back then, now _that_ was something he could do with right now. Having to take orders from someone else chafed, and he could sense Omega stirring, feeding off Oblivion's restlessness.

Alien thoughts, vast and incomprehensible and _ancient_ flitted across his mind too swiftly to be grasped, disorientating and disconcerting all at once. It was like having someone else in his head, muscling in on his consciousness and trying to drown his own thoughts out – and in a way that was exactly what was happening; the indistinct muttering in Weiss' skull growing in volume and intensity, Omega rousing itself from dormancy at long last.

Weiss focussed, struggling to wrest some semblance of control. _I'll be damned if I'll be made a fool puppet again –_

The WEAPON lashed out at him, a spiked mind-thought slashing at neurons and sending nerve impulses stuttering to a halt.

**Enough with your petty folly, human. So much corruption – I can feel it, all around me – all the taint in Oblivion, sullying everyt****hing it comes into contact with. This filth must be cleansed, Oblivion purged. We have much to do.**

_No,_ he thought fiercely, but Omega tightened its grip, and a white-hot flare of pain exploded in his head.

**You will listen. There are some things that are far greater than your tedious causes, and this is one of them.**

Weiss snarled, eyes watering under Omega's unforgiving onslaught. His head _ached_, a savage burn that made all resistance impossible; dimly he registered his knees buckling traitorously under him, sending him reeling, helpless, to the floor.

_Fine. We'll do this your godsblasted way, but after this I'll –_

"_Weiss_. What the fuck are you doing!" Sab hissed, wrenching him up, but it was too late. Their cover had been blown.

Alarmed shouts were ringing out along the corridor, "What was _that_!" and "Intruder alert!" and various other voices gobbing off in WRO-speak, accompanied by the not-so-reassuring flare of attack materia and the unmistakeable sounds of various weapons being unsheathed and unholstered.

Weiss staggered, blinking the spots out of his eyes, and Sab made an irritated _tsking_ sound, "We don't sodding have _time_ for this."

There was no conceivable reason for the sudden appearance of a Deepground soldier in the WRO compound, especially if this intruder had simply stepped out of thin air. Try as he might, Weiss couldn't see how they were going to get out of this one. Neither did Artimieva, judging from the agitated scowl on her features.

Weiss looked ashen. His face glistened with cold sweat, and he swayed gently, as if finding his feet for the very first time. _Sid__e effects of mako exposure_, Sab decided. She'd never experienced it herself, but they'd all seen the failed SOLDIERS, crippled or driven insane by the intrusive experiments conducted on them, or worse, the Deformed – nightmarish hybrids of man and machine, mindless, mute and raging at the world –

_**It doesn't matter. **_Oblivion rasped. _**We have much to do. Blood for blood. The dark will rise again, and this time there will be no one to**__**stop us. Kill them. Kill them all.**_

Yeah, she could do that. She spun to face them, and let the shadows go.

* * *

Oblivion was hungry, and _alive _– or at least, as close to alive as it could be, after so many years of forced dormancy. It had found a willing host, at long last, and it would feed to its heart's content. So many souls here, so many pulsing pinpricks of life around it, all calling out to be quenched and devoured.

_**It was so easy**_**, **it mused, _**so very easy to bend the wills of mortals to meet its own ends. Just a little taste of power and an empty promise of more to come, and they were hooked, impaled by their very own desires**_.

Nero had tried to fight, but Oblivion had consumed him in the end, darkness absorbing flesh and bone and the tattered, bloodstained remnants of his soul. It remembered the satisfying crunch of bone giving way and the snapping of ligaments as they were forced out of shape, the sharp burst of flavour his still-beating heart had afforded, copper-bright, how sated it had been after. If it had a mouth, it would be watering. _**No matter. I will have the girl, after Omega is dealt with. **_And then the planet itself, and the skies beyond. Where Jenova had failed, Oblivion would succeed. _**Let it be dark, and there would be night.**_

* * *

"Lieutenant-General," Ryden growled dangerously, "just _what the fuck_ is going on?"

"I don't know, sir." The hapless trooper admitted, hoping Ryden wouldn't pick up on his agitation through the intercom system. He was a pen-pusher, not a fighter; but that hadn't mattered to his superiors when they'd nominated him for the post. Officers didn't need to be smart. What the Board had looked for was unquestioning obedience, and Lieutenant-General Drew fit the bill exactly.

Drew was sweating. One moment it had been business as usual, the next the alarms had gone and it was every man for himself. And then there had been the screaming, loud and terrible and agonised, and then a dread silence that was somehow even worse than the anguished cries.

Fingers shaking, he fumbled for the surveillance feed display. A sweep of the corridors revealed nothing. It would have been perfectly ordinary, except thatrooms bustling with personnel bare seconds ago were deserted.

"Sir!" A regular burst through the door, wide-eyed and practically whimpering, "There's a, a, shadows _everywhere_, sir, everyone's dead, came so fast I didn't – blood all over the floor, they're all gone, gone, I don't –"

"Calm _down_, auxiliary." Drew grasped for normalcy like a drowning man. He was floundering. It wasn't supposed to go like this. There was a _procedure_. Orders to be taken, executed. That sort of thing. This was ridiculous. Everyone knew shadows were harmless. Maybe it was some sort of nerve gas that caused people to hallucinate. _Yes. That had to be it. A terrorist attack of some kind._

"Shadows, you say?" Ryden's voice had lost its earlier bite. Now he was pensive, and the only time Drew had seen the Director this thoughtful was usually when heads rolled.

"Sir, you can't be taking him seriously – " Drew began uncertainly.

"I wonder..." Ryden said slowly, ignoring him. Then, "Yes. I am. Send up the elites. I'll be in the containment chamber."

"But sir, the evacuation – " Drew tried desperately. _Was the Director mad? _This was a threat; it had to be dealt with as such, not ignored.

"Will _not_ commence. I have this under control, Lieutenant-General. You have your orders." Ryden snapped, in a tone that suggested that if Drew didn't comply, he wouldn't remain an officer for long.

"Yessir. I'll deploy the squad at once." The beleaguered trooper muttered sullenly, caving to his superior and trying to ignore the unease niggling at the back of his mind.


End file.
